


non compos mentis

by svartalfheimr



Series: monstro quod ipse tibi possis dare [1]
Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Descent into Madness, Dissociation, Imperial Era, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Nightmares, Pre-Solo: A Star Wars Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/svartalfheimr
Summary: Some nights, Rex feels eyes watching him but, when he goes outside, no one is here.
Relationships: Darth Maul/CT-7567 | Rex
Series: monstro quod ipse tibi possis dare [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015702
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94





	non compos mentis

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [awakening](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648574) by [nebulera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulera/pseuds/nebulera). 



> Behold! The fic no one asked for!  
> *dumps it on the archive in a gold trash bag*
> 
> You know how sometimes you keep thinking about a fic because there's this one line that calls to your soul, like it sticks with you and you think about it from time to time? It's exactly what's happening to me with one of Maul's lines from 'awakening' by nebulera (which i can't recommend enough): "Take what you need, Captain." I can't stop thinking about it. I'm a bit obsessed with the angst potential of maulrex and since this line currently lives rent free in my brain... here we are.
> 
> no beta we die liek mne

It’s a slow process.

One day Rex sees shadows out the corner of his eye. In a market, dissuading a local from selling him some trinket or another, he catches glimpses of a nightmare. At first, he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. It happens; from time to time, he’d see a face in the crowd, similar to his own, until he realizes it isn’t. Come to think of it, it’s kind of funny; Rex has more than a million brothers scattered throughout the galaxy and, still, he hasn’t seen one since he became a traitor to the Republic.

Or, rather, to the Empire. 

No one sees his face, these days. The last sentient who did was Ahsoka and Rex would rather not think about her. It’s been a couple of years since everything fell apart but, for Rex’s mind, it’s only been last night. Now, when he sees her, she’s always standing in front of Jesse’s grave. She never looks the same—sometimes she wears that wretched cloak, sometimes she looks as young as she was the first time he saw her, sometimes when she turns back to look at him it’s his own face that greets him.

He wears different helmets, changes them whenever he can find a good, sturdy one that won’t cost too many credits. One day, he buys a poncho; it’s comfortable, keeps him warm when the suns set. After a couple of months, one of the merchants recognizes him, says he’s the only burly man he knows who would wear a poncho like this one.

A spike of fear runs through him at that; he has to discard it, fast. He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards; his ears ring. For an instant he closes his eyes and feels like the shadows are closing in on him. He takes a deep breath and, when he opens his eyes again, he’s hiding in the hull of a civilian cargo ship en route to some planet, on the edge of Hutt space, three parsecs away. From there, he steals a ship. It’s old and falling apart; it won’t survive a jump to hyperspace so he only flies it to the closest moon with a space port, crashlands nearby and lets the carcass go up in flames. He doesn’t dwell too much on the time gap.

In less than a standard month, it happens again. 

Rex is doing odd jobs, anything that can get him credits without raising attention. Today, he’s helping out a would-be bounty hunter who promises him thirty percent. He knows he won’t give him his cut if he can. Rex still takes the job.

The Nikto they’re after has been hiding on this rock for a couple of months, thinking himself out of trouble as long as he stays out of Hutt space. How foolish. It takes them two rotations, less than a standard day, to find him. Rex does most of the work; it’s faster. The Nikto is dead and they have proof; they will get paid handsomely. The bounty hunter can’t believe their luck; let’s celebrate tonight, he tells him. They do.

The cantina is full of patrons and none of them is native to the moon. Rex is told to wait at the counter, so he does. The bartender gives him a drink with a straw made of steel. When Rex simply stares at it, they tell him they have it for Mandalorians. Some of them won’t take it off, they say pointing at his face. You look like you won’t either, so here’s a straw. Rex simply nods his thanks and tries it out. The drink’s very spicy. He decides he likes it.

The cantina isn’t very big but it’s made to look like it is. There are dark corners, tables set to allow privacy, others decidedly less so. The dancers never look at the patrons around them for more than a couple of seconds. They don’t seem very happy. Rex doubts anyone cares if they aren’t. He takes another sip of his drink, lets the liquid burn his throat. The taste lingers on his tongue; he feels like he’s being watched. It’s a cantina; he’s standing at the bar on his own and he’s far from being a small man. Someone could be sizing him up. He’s already caught some curious, muted stares. It doesn’t feel like it, though. His spine tenses despite himself. A voice at the back of his head tells him to run. He plants his feet on the ground and gulps half of his drink.

The bounty hunter becomes handsy with one of the dancers; they get kicked out before Rex can even finish his drink. It’s just as well; he didn’t like it.

The bounty hunter offers to buy them a room for the night; he got paid so they can split now and part ways _or_ Rex could go to the spaceport and fly out with him tomorrow. They make a good team and he already has another bounty puck. He’ll give him thirty-five percent. It’s a very tempting offer. Rex agrees.

The room has two beds; the bounty hunter flops down on the one closest to the viewport. He takes off his cloak, his jacket, his goggles, his holster then his tunic. He’s not entirely human; there are streaks on his skin, darker than the rest of him. Rex forgets his manners for an instant and stares. The bounty hunter takes notice; he watches him with a cocked eyebrow and, after a moment of consideration, he grins. You like? he asks, slowly advancing on him. Rex stays silent, uncomprehending, until a finger brushes against his belt. He doesn’t move; the bounty hunter starts unbuckling him. When one of his hands goes for the helmet, Rex flinches and his back meets the wall abruptly. The bounty hunter raises his hands slowly and says I don’t mind, you can keep it on.

What follows is more or less a blur. Rex is against the wall; he blinks and suddenly he isn’t anymore. They’re standing in the middle of the room and there’s a hand trailing on his stomach, lifting his shirt up. His muscles clench and the bounty hunter’s appreciative groan makes Rex freeze. He watches him falling down on his knees, eyes staring back at the helmet and he swallows, throat dry.

Rex isn’t an idiot; he knows what’s happening. He’s not sure he wants it. He doesn’t know how to say it. A spike of anger runs through him at his inaction; he’s a soldier, he’s not helpless. He feels like he’s suffocating; air eludes him and he has to close his eyes to calm himself. When he opens them again, the bounty hunter is staring at him in fear. His hands are clutching at his own neck, like he’s trying to get rid of something that isn’t here.

Cold sweat runs down Rex’s back; horror encompasses him. He knows what’s happening; he knows intimately how it feels, to have an invisible force gripping at your throat, constricting your airflow, to have your hands instinctively try to push away something that isn’t here. He takes a step forward and the bounty hunter’s eyes widen. They’re not looking at him. They’re looking at something _behind—_

He wakes up on the bed farthest from the viewport. Judging by the light flooding the room, both suns are already up—have been for a while now. He’s alone. There’s nothing left to indicate whether he’s been alone all this time or not, except for the credit chips on the other bed. It’s more than his cut. It’s the whole pay.

His hands shake but he takes the credits. He buys himself a one-way trip to Wild Space. It will take weeks, the captain tells him. Rex doesn’t care; he wants to get away as far as he can.

On that first night aboard the cargo ship, he dreams about Ahsoka again. They’re on the Destroyer this time, minutes before he’ll lose control of his own mind. This time, she escapes, he doesn’t know how, but she does. She never tries to free him. He stays on the Destroyer with his brothers and Jesse has an ugly sneer on his face because they’ve got one Force-sensitive but the other got away. Rex’s blood boils with hunger; he wants to hunt her down and make sure they’ll get her.

When he wakes up, his sheets are soaked with cold sweat; he feels sick to his stomach and runs to the ‘fresher to empty its content. There’s a voice whispering at the back of his head. She freed him, it says, but at what cost? Rex is alone, now, a traitor to his own brothers, a traitor who let them die so she could live. She opened the door to chaos so they could escape. He willingly let a monster run free, knowing it wouldn’t hesitate to kill his brethren if it meant it could live.

He rejects the idea with all his might. He throws up again and clutches at his hair. The blond’s longer now; he can grip it and hurt himself. The pain feels like justice; if only it could mean the voice would remain silent. The sensation of being watched is back again and the shadows seem to close in on him. His heart and breathing quicken, the beginning of panic encompassing him but he feels a chill run down his back and his mind goes blissfully silent.

When he opens his eyes, he’s already on Lysatra, halfway through a meal of rice and meat sitting on his lap, his fingers holding a piece of some kind of cooked vegetable. Before him are just fields expanding far away to the horizon. He keeps eating, glances at his side. There’s a helmet that he’s never seen before. When he puts it on, it fits perfectly. He doesn’t dwell on it too much.

A year passes.

Lysatra is a peaceful world and, fortunately, it is isolated. The Empire has no hold here; Lysatra may be part of it but it’s too far from the Core to be of importance. Imperial activity is close to nil if he stays away from the big cities. 

Rex stopped wearing the helmet after three months. He has a poncho and a scarf for when he goes into town. The rest of the time, he lives in the little house that is supposedly his. He woke up next to it a year ago; an abandoned thing with a single room that serves as kitchen, living room and bedroom, plus a tiny ‘fresher. On the bed were his gauntlets; the only pieces he kept of his life before everything fell apart. No one has claimed the house since. No one protested when he started living full time in it.

He still does odd jobs, accepts food as a form of payment. He has nightmares every night. Most of the time, Ahsoka is there; other times it’s General Skywalker. These last few months, he never sees their faces. Sometimes when he tries to remember them, he can’t. 

There are nights when Rex hears someone whisper. He wakes up, hears the frantic words, and it sounds like his own voice. When he looks in the mirror, his face is still even though he hears the whispers. He never understands what they say. He knows they’re begging for freedom. He goes outside, sees the unending fields. The wind is soft on his skin, tempting, wondering why he is still here. Rex doesn’t know.

He thinks about the bounty hunter, from time to time. He wonders what could have happened, enjoys thinking about what ifs and harmless simulations. What if Rex had welcomed his touch? What if he had taken off his helmet?

Some nights, he feels eyes watching him but, when he goes outside, no one is here. 

Rex digs a hole in front of the house. He doesn’t really know why. He feels he has to so he does. When it’s deep enough he has to climb to get out, he leaves it like that. In the evenings, when watching the fields makes him restless, he stares at the hole. There’s nothing inside it, just mud and rocks. He’s still entranced by it.

He likes to imagine he’s not alone. Most of the time, it’s his brothers. Cody’s outside looking at the fields when Rex is in the ‘fresher. Fives and Echo are having a hushed conversation when he’s falling asleep. Jesse is the one cooking when Rex doesn’t feel like it.

He thinks he hears someone crying in the hole. There’s no one when he goes looking. At night, its shape is grotesque; the rot at its center keeps expanding. He crawls down and keeps digging.

He starts helping out in the farm nearby. The farmers are good people; they give him milk and often leave some in front of his house if he’s working somewhere else. One evening after he’s herding the banthas back, the wife puts a glass of milk in front of him and gestures at it but doesn’t hand it to him. He takes it, confused, and, when he tries to drink, the glass clinks on his chin but he doesn’t feel it. The wife frowns then says I’m sorry. I can leave if you want to drink. Rex doesn’t understand as he watches her walk away. He does when he catches his reflection in a puddle of mud. He’s still wearing the helmet. He thought he’d stopped wearing it months ago.

I don’t need to see your face to see the good in you, the husband tells him when he prepares to leave. Rex stares at the ground, doesn’t know what to say. In the end, he settles on thank you for the milk. The farmer lets him go without another word. At night, he dreams he’s on a Destroyer, getting ready for a briefing with General Skywalker. He puts on his helmet but, when he catches his reflection, it’s not the right one; it’s the first one he bought after everything fell apart. He goes back to his room, finds the right helmet sitting on his bed so he takes off the wrong one. But when he looks in the mirror, he’s still wearing a helmet; this time it’s another one. He takes it off but when he looks in the mirror he’s still wearing a helmet. He takes it off and the same thing happens again, and again, and again.

He wakes up abruptly because someone is screaming. He looks around, everywhere, frantic, but there’s no one else here. He goes outside, looks around, everywhere, but there’s no one else here either. His heart calms down, after a while, and the fight or flight response subdues. Rex walks to the hole and stares at it. Whatever’s down there is decaying. He fetches his shovel, jumps down and starts digging, ignoring how sore his throat feels.

He doesn’t go back to the farm again. The wife comes with milk after a couple of days and when she doesn’t receive any response she just leaves the milk on his doorstep. It happens again, from time to time. She looks around, doesn’t see him, puts the milk down then leaves. After a while, she stops coming.

Some nights Rex is restless; he can’t sleep. He tosses and turns and huffs and grunts. His body feels electrified; the rustles of the sheets, the soft brushes of the wind—everything lights his skin on fire. During these nights, he feels observed, watched, like the shadows are enclosing him. Sometimes he thinks he can hear someone breathing, sometimes it’s just whispers of a laugh. One night it becomes unbearable. He tries to think about something but nothing comes to mind. He settles on that unnerving feeling—like there’s someone watching—takes himself in hand and bites on his tongue to remain silent, even though no one else is here.

One day, Rex wakes up and he can’t stand it anymore. He takes only what is necessary with him and burns the house down. He watches it go down in flames. His body sings with it. The voice at the back of his head whispers caresses full of promises.

He takes one last look at the hole. There’s no grass, no insects, no life at the bottom, only rot. He stares at it, silent, then leaves without taking one last look at the fields.

I’ll work for free, Rex tells the captain of yet another merchant ship. I just need to leave the planet. This one accepts his offer. He boards the ship, helmet and gauntlets in place, and for the first time in a long time he feels alive. It’s hard work; Rex is no mechanic but he’s learned a thing or two along the way. One of the workers takes a shine to him and teaches him more tricks. When he goes to bed at night, his mind is too tired to dwell on things. He never remembers his dreams.

The worker likes him. She always finds a way to eat besides him; she shares her food with him. When she smiles, she reminds him of Ahsoka. As soon as Rex sees it, he can’t stop. The nightmares come back. He hears someone crying down the hole. There’s no hole aboard the ship and when he asks about the cries his bunkmates stare at him warily.

One evening, the worker kisses him. He lets her do it. She isn’t assertive about it; she puts her hands on his chest but doesn’t push him against the wall. Her fingers get lost in his hair but she doesn’t pull. Her hand caresses his neck to settle on his chin but she doesn’t squeeze his throat. Rex’s mind wanders. He thinks about the bounty hunter for a split second, wonders what it would have felt like to be the one gripping his throat.

The thought scares him so much he pushes her away. He puts a hand on his mouth, stopping any sound from escaping, and hastily walks back to his room, ignoring her worried questions. He goes to the ‘fresher and sits on the floor, hands clutching at his legs. He doesn’t dare to move them. He’s afraid they’ll go straight for his own neck.

They arrive at their final stop one cycle later. Rex has successfully avoided the worker for the remaining time. When he steps outside he goes as far away from the ship as he can, without glancing back.

He has never been in the Quelli sector before. There are a lot of stormtroopers on this planet. One time he goes to the cantina looking for work and has to hide in an alley. The stormtroopers are checking everyone’s identifications—he has none. It isn’t why he is filled with panic. One of the stormtroopers, the one stopping people—Rex knows his voice. It’s the voice of a brother.

It’s a blur of anxiety, adrenaline and panic but Rex finds himself safe and sound, standing in the middle of a crossroad. He is out of breath, like he ran thirty klicks carrying his whole kit. His muscles are spasming; when he looks at his hands, they’re shaking violently. He can’t stop them from shaking.

He hears gurgling sounds behind him. He takes a step, looks back and he freezes. There’s a stormtrooper lying on the ground, drowning in his own blood. His helmet is halfway up his face—Rex can see his split lips, the flow of blood seeping through his mouth. He’s clutching at his throat, at the deep slash going from one side to the other. Rex looks around. The other two stormtroopers are dead. He can’t see their wounds; there’s no blood on the ground around them. He stares at his feet. There’s a vibroblade there; it’s soaking in blood and gore.

The surviving stormtrooper gasps; it’s a last cry of pain. His body becomes lifeless. Rex stares at him for a long time. His body goes rigid and he’s suddenly hit with the need to run, so he does. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t try to see which one was the brother. 

He doesn’t know for how long he runs, nor how far. All he knows is that the need leaves him just like it came—suddenly and without warning. He stops abruptly. In front of him stands a cantina. Rex goes in. It’s mostly empty, save for a couple of patrons who pay him no mind. The bartender greets him. You want a room? he asks and Rex finds himself nodding silently. He tells him the price and Rex takes the necessary amount out of his pocket. He goes to his room after the whole exchange. He didn’t have that many credits when he stepped out of the merchant ship.

He sits on the bed. For a moment he just stares at the floor. He doesn’t know for how long. He looks at his hands. They’re not shaking anymore. He feels strangely calm. He takes off his clothes, drops them on the ground without a single care then steps into the ‘fresher. That’s when it occurs to him that his hands are pristine. There’s not a single drop of blood on them. When he steps out, he takes his clothes off the floor and looks at them from every angle. No blood either. He drops them on the floor and goes straight to the bed. He pulls off the covers and gets in. He closes his eyes.

Sleep eludes him. The sheets feel like bindings on his limbs. His skin is on fire. He tosses and turns and huffs and grunts. He gets up, goes to open the viewport. There’s no wind. He lies back down, hands on his stomach and stares at the ceiling. When he tries to remember what happened, his mind goes blank. He feels exhausted and wired at the same time, like he’s in the middle of a campaign and they get a small reprieve. 

Rex stares at the ceiling. Time passes by.

He feels a tingling sensation at the back of his neck. It’s a bit unnerving—like someone is breathing on his nape. He shivers. A drop of sweat falls from his temple, slides on his jaw, then settles on his neck. His throat clicks when he swallows. He closes his eyes.

His dreams that night do not make any sense—more sensations than anything else. He feels observed, watched, _hunted_ and Rex runs and runs and runs but the eyes on his back never leave. The whispers are getting louder, hissing, vicious sibilants pervading his thoughts and Rex is overwhelmed; his body is so taut he can almost taste his own fear. He runs and misses a step; he falls for a long time, an eternity, sure that it will be infinite. At last, he hits the ground. He’s deep in the mud. The air is stale. He is surrounded by rot. He knows where he is; it’s the hole he dug on Lysatra. He knows it intimately. From where he stands, he can’t see the grass surrounding the hole nor the fields—only what’s inside, rot, ever-expanding decay. Rex isn’t afraid anymore.

He steals another ship. This one can take a jump to hyperspace. The old gunship hisses and protests but Rex still makes the jump. The stars blur and the vastness of space is replaced by blue hues. After he’s sure they’re on the right path, he gets up and lets the autopilot do the rest. It’s a major mistake.

The ship howls and suddenly they’re propelled out of hyperspace. Rex becomes airborne; he’s flung straight to the viewport before the artificial gravity can reboot itself. The ship is shuddering. They’re being pulled in. He gets up, winces and takes a look at the viewport. The violent jump out of hyperspace flung him straight to the nearest planet’s orbit; the ship’s going to crash fast. He can still salvage this disaster. He pushes himself towards the pilot seat, hands extended, and that’s exactly when they enter the atmosphere; gravity is high and aggressive. He crashes down and his head hits something. He doesn’t have time to feel the crash before the shadows overwhelm him.

Rex dreams about Ahsoka again. They’re on the Destroyer this time; she survives and she doesn’t try to free him. This time, Rex leads the hunt, Jesse at his side, and Ahsoka destroys everything in her path. They’re in a corridor and Ahsoka’s eyes shine with sickly yellow hues and she doesn’t have her lightsabers but a red saberstaff that destroys and cuts through everything. Fear fills him; his body screams with horror. Brothers fall under her wrath like dominoes. Blast her, Rex shouts but it’s too late because she cuts Jesse in half and she stares at him right after with a vicious smile on her face.

When he wakes up, he starts thrashing; there’s something in his mouth, something that goes deep into his throat and constricts his airflow. He panics, moves around and tries to pull the thing away but suddenly he can’t move, his body frozen by an invisible force. His heart hammers; Rex wants to yell. It takes him an agonizing time, minutes, hours, maybe seconds, but finally he understands—he’s in a bacta tank. The realization does not reassure him. He tries to see where he is but since he can’t move it’s not easy. The room he’s in is dark, too dark for him to see anything besides the tank. He tries to turn his head but he can’t. He looks down and that’s when he sees them. Sickly yellow eyes, glowing, staring at him. 

Sleep drags Rex under again before he can start thrashing.

The first thing he feels is the cold. He’s laying down on something hard—probably the ground. His muscles are spasming with exertion; he has difficulty breathing. He tries to get up but his arms fail him before he can; he falls back down abruptly, the motion making a squishing sound. He feels slippery and, judging by the infamous smell pervading the air, he must still be covered in bacta. He tries to move but his limbs aren’t responding.

He can hear resounding footsteps, closing in on him. There’s something odd about them but Rex can’t exactly tell what. He’s overwhelmed by mortification and shame; he’s naked, soaked with bacta, writhing on the floor, unable to do anything but crawling centimeters by centimeters, each motion an agony. He gasps and his throat hurts. He raises his chin but the motion makes him want to retch. That’s when the footsteps stop. He opens his eyes and sees the boots in front of him. In the stretch between them and the pants, there is no skin—only steel. 

Rex flinches back at the sight of cybernetics; he tries to fall back but his hands slip on the ground and he is filled with rage. Maul crouches and stares at him silently. He has the audacity to put his fingers under his chin and Rex loses all his dignity because he wouldn’t be able to look at him if Maul didn’t. He doesn’t avert his gaze; he won’t give him that.

“Commander,” he says, his tone like Rex is a minor inconvenience. “You must know you wouldn’t be… _standing_ here if I wanted you dead.”

Rex is seething. His whole body is shaking with exhaustion. The ground is cold and unforgiving and Maul’s fingers on his chin are scorching. He wants to scream, I’ll kill you, he wants to say, a promise. He stays silent. He stares at Maul and tells him nothing. He knows it’s worse than anything he could say. The Sith’s eyes shine and he tilts his head, observing him in a new angle like Rex is a challenging prey. His mouth twists in frustration and he huffs. “Very well,” he says, letting go of his chin, standing back up and leaving him on the ground without a second glance. Rex is consumed by hatred. He starts pushing himself on his elbows, growling with the effort, ignoring how his muscles protest in pain. He falls down again but he doesn’t let it stop him; he pushes up again. Maul stops walking. He turns back and smiles.

“I can feel your anger,” he rumbles, eyes widening when Rex growls again. “Yes, Commander. Rise.”

And Rex tries. His legs don’t respond to his command at first; his arms tremble with the exertion. It takes several attempts but finally, finally, he can move one knee. He pushes himself to sit back on his legs and bites back a yowl. He has to close his eyes and calms the rapid pace of his breathing. He clenches his fists and glares at Maul.

The Sith stares, lets his eyes roam freely over him and Rex gives him nothing. He knows what Maul’s doing, trying to establish his power by stripping Rex of his decency. The Sith won’t take anything else from him. 

That’s when his stomach decides it is a good time to be acknowledged. He falls back on his hands with the violence of a sudden retch and starts dry heaving.

He hears Maul sigh. “Put him back in again,” he intones. Rex wants to see who he is talking to but he is once again plunged into darkness.

He dreams about the crash. Ahsoka is there; Rex tries to get a hold of her but the viewport breaks; she’s sucked out in the vacuum of space before he can do anything. He shouts but there’s no sound coming out of his mouth. The crash feels more like a soft fall; suddenly he’s back on Lysatra, deep into the hole. When he takes a closer look, he tries to climb out. The rot is still there but Rex never realized what it was. There’s a hand there. It’s a brother’s hand.

He wakes up to the sound of someone screaming. When he looks around, there’s no one else but him. He’s in a bed. When he tries to move, his muscles protest but not as much as before. He sits up. The bed he’s in is big; you could fit at least three brothers in it. There’s not much in the room—a ‘fresher in one corner and a table with a chair in another. There are no viewports and a single door. There’s a set of clothes on the bed. When he tries the tunic on, it fits. 

The door opens, startling him. A droid comes in. It’s carrying a tray—rations, protein bars and water. Everything is sealed. Rex takes them gingerly, figuring out that if Maul wants to kill him he’ll be more creative than this. Where am I? he asks the droid and gets no answer. He takes a closer look at it. The droid has no vocabulator. When Rex has taken all the food, the droid leaves. His jaw clenches; his stomach growls. He opens a protein bar and eats. He won’t try having much more. He’s not an idiot. And he hates throwing up.

He doesn't know how much time passes. There are no chronos in the room and no viewports. And even then, he has no idea how many hours a cycle takes. His existence for a while revolves around sleeping and eating. When he can finally stand up on his own, he goes to the ‘fresher and he almost cries when he sees it’s not a sonic. He tells himself he’ll stay in it until the water runs cold. It never does. He lets himself sit down and when he starts shaking he doesn’t try to stop himself. He thinks he falls asleep after a while.

He dreams about the Destroyer. This time, Ahsoka isn’t there but General Skywalker is. It changes nothing. Rex receives the order and tries to fight it but to no avail. Skywalker was ruthless but he never hurt his men, always took care of them and never discarded their lives as meaningless. In the end, he goes down because there are too many brothers against him and he refuses to harm them.

When Rex wakes up, he’s in his bed and he feels empty.

He grows restless. The better he is, the more restless he becomes. The nightmares come back; Ahsoka becomes more and more aggressive. His mind twists everything; Rex wakes up sometimes seething with rage against her until he realizes it was all a dream. The more time passes and the more his mind paints Ahsoka in a new picture. After a while, General Skywalker becomes Skywalker then Anakin. Rex erects a monument to Anakin Skywalker in his mind while Ahsoka Tano’s image becomes tainted with doubt. Every time he gets aware of this, he gets angry.

One day he destroys the droid. He doesn’t know why; he just does. He takes off its head, then its limbs, throws them away and then dismantles it with all his might. When he’s done, he admires his work then proceeds to throw up. He climbs back to his bed and ignores whoever comes in to pick up the pieces. 

On the next day, a new droid comes in to give him food. He ignores it. After a while, the droid leaves. It comes back a couple of hours later. Rex ignores it. The droid leaves once again. He falls asleep.

He’s back on Lysatra, staring at the hole. He takes his shovel and goes down. He starts digging. The suns go down and the moons replace them. Rex keeps digging. He hits something. He digs around then leaves the shovel to dig with his own hands. Whatever is there, he needs to see it. He keeps digging and the dirt lodges itself under his nails. He keeps digging until he knows he doesn’t have to anymore. He proceeds to brush away the dirt. He starts crying. It’s the farmers.

When he wakes up his face is wet for the first time. He breaks the chair then the table. The droid arrives and stops him before he can break the bed. There’s something insistent at the back of his mind; Rex tries to fight it but eventually he falls asleep.

He wakes up. He eats what the droid gives him. He stares at the wall. He falls asleep. He repeats the process. One day, the droid brings him different sets of clothes. He is filled with rage; he destroys it in a fit of anger. He goes to his bed and ignores whoever comes in to pick up the pieces.

Leave me alone, he says to the droid now every time it comes in. He doesn’t take the food. The droid leaves him for a couple of hours then comes back every time. After a while, he destroys it. The pieces stay there for a while. No other droid comes. He is finally alone.

Hunger starts clawing at him. He can drink the water from the ‘fresher but he has no food. Rex grows worried. His nightmares now always feature his hunger. One night, he dreams about the worker. This time, she’s aggressive when she kisses him and Rex lets her. When he wakes up he feels sick to his stomach and wants to throw up. He can’t. He stays lying on the ground, dry heaving, until he falls unconscious.

He feels something clutching at his throat so he wakes up. When he tries to shake it off, his hands touch nothing. He fights against an invisible force until he sees Maul standing in front of him. The Sith’s face is contorted with anger. He raises his fist and Rex with it. He hovers above the ground and writhes. “Stop destroying the droids,” Maul growls. “I cannot replace them when I am not here.”

Rex is so shocked by his words that he stops fighting. The Sith blinks and all of sudden Rex falls on the ground. He coughs and clutches at his stomach. He’s too hungry to fight him.

Maul leaves without another word.

Rex is woken up by the new droid lifting him up and depositing him onto the bed. He tries to fall back asleep but the droid keeps poking him with rations. He recognizes them; it’s the liquid nutrients. It’s effective and his stomach will keep it. He gulps one then falls back asleep.

Rex doesn’t destroy the droid. That doesn’t stop him from growing restless. Sometimes he catches himself talking under his breath. Some nights he wakes up because someone is screaming. When he looks around, there’s no one else in the room with him. His brothers whisper behind the walls; they ask him why he is here. Why him, the whispers echo. Rex doesn’t know. He misses the hole on Lysatra. 

One day when he walks to the ‘fresher he trips on his own foot and puts a hand on the door to support himself. The door opens. He stays frozen on the spot. The door closes. He puts his hand back on it. The door opens. He screams. He never tried to see if the door was locked.

He doesn’t leave the room.

When the droid comes in, he destroys it. He takes it apart piece by piece. He breaks the bed afterwards. He throws the droid’s limbs at the walls, shouts, screams and kicks. He opens the door. He stares at the wall outside. It’s a corridor. He takes a step forward and his hands start shaking. The door closes. He puts a hand on it. The door opens. He takes a step backwards. He jumps when his foot touches some droid parts. The door closes. He kneels on the ground, puts his head between his arms and shouts.

There’s an aggressive suggestion at the back of his mind to fall asleep and for once Rex listens to it.

He dreams about Ahsoka Tano. She’s in the Destroyer; she frees him. They go against his brothers; they escape; they let the Destroyer crash. They bury their dead and take time to mourn them. She tells him they should go their separate ways. This time he doesn’t say yes. He stops her; he grips her wrist and shouts. Why, he demands. Why me. Ahsoka Tano stares at him for a long time. I don’t know, she replies.

He wakes up in a new bed. There’s a chair and a table in his room again and new sets of clothes. He gets up abruptly and touches the door. It opens. He lets it close again. He stands there for a long moment. He waits. Nothing happens. He wishes for a shovel so he can dig another hole here.

The following morning, Rex gets up and goes straight to the fresher. He lets the water run freely and for an instant he simply exists. He steps out, puts on new clothes and touches the door. It opens. He steps outside before he can decide otherwise.

There’s no one in the corridor. No guards, no droids. He starts walking aimlessly. After a while, it occurs to him that they’re underground. There are no viewports. Some of the walls look to be carved out of rocks. He stops when he hears noises nearby. It sounds like grunts. His heart sets a rapid pace. “Again,” Rex hears and he will recognize Maul’s voice anywhere. There are more grunts, a crack then a huff. “Your form is sloppy. Again.” He takes a step forward. Then he turns around but doesn’t walk. He turns back. He shifts from one foot to another. He starts walking towards the noises. He stops when he’s at the door. The room is massive. It’s open and the ceilings are as high as the throne room’s on Mandalore. What catches his eyes at first is the light coming from the viewports. The sky is red.

“Leave us,” Maul says and Rex startles. The Sith isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at the human lying on the mats. The man stands up. A pleasure, as always, Lord Maul, he says with a respectful bow. The Sith ignores him. The man walks out and past Rex without looking at him even once. He’s not human; there are red streaks on his skin. They are similar to the bounty hunter’s. “Are you hungry, Commander?”

It takes him a couple of seconds to understand the question. Rex blinks. His stomach growls. Maul nods and makes a gesture at him to follow. He exits through another door without a second glance. Rex curses then follows him. He leaves a couple of meters between them. If the Sith notices he doesn’t comment on it. He leads them to another room, with a large table, made to sit at least thirty guests. Maul makes a gesture at a droid then sits at the head of the table. “Sit,” he orders and Rex bristles. He plants his feet on the ground. The Sith looks at him with amusement but doesn’t say anything. 

The droid comes back with a warm plate. There’s real food on it. Rex’s mouth waters. “Eat,” the Sith says and this time Rex agrees. He takes a seat and starts digging in. The meat is grilled; he takes the ribs and groans with the first bite. He takes a piece of fruit. The sweetness is exquisite. Rex closes his eyes and savors every bite of it. When he’s done, he licks his fingers clean. The doid takes his plate away. It’s only then that he realizes Maul has been observing him the whole time; he never ate, didn’t even have a plate.

Where am I, Rex asks abruptly. The silence is too heavy. When he swallows, it feels like it echoes throughout the room.

“On Dathomir,” Maul replies. “My home planet.”

Rex doesn’t know what to say. He watches Maul, who watches him back. He’s wearing a tabard made of leather just like Anakin. A pendant sits on his chest. A golden half moon. The Sith taps his fingers on it.

“Crimson Dawn,” he says. “The man you saw—its figurehead.” Rex huffs in disgust. He knows Crimson Dawn. He shouldn’t be surprised to learn Maul is behind the criminal organization. “A sycophant but a useful one.”

I don’t care, Rex snarls. It seems to amuse the Sith. It makes Rex even more angry.

“It is your right,” Maul comments. He falls silent after that. He keeps staring at him. Rex stands up abruptly. Yellow eyes follow his movement. Why am I here, he asks in a snarl of rage. Maul simply tilts his head. After a long moment spent in silence, Rex leaves. He goes back to his room and paces in it until he’s too tired and falls asleep on the floor.

He dreams about Anakin. He’s grinning at something Fives said. He looks as radiant as a star. Rex thinks it’s how Jedi are supposed to look like—glowing, peaceful, carefree, happy. When he wakes up, he lies on the floor and stares at the wall. Jedi aren’t supposed to die. Rex was made to protect them. Yet here is Rex while Anakin’s corpse is rotting somewhere, slowly turning into filth.

The droid comes in and he ignores it. He stays on the floor until the droid comes back—he gets up and steps outside. He goes to the large room with the viewports. No one is here when he arrives. He steps in. The room is bathed in red but it is muted compared to the last time he was here. He stares at the viewports, at the sky outside and his mind goes blissfully blank. After a while he sits down. He doesn’t remember when exactly he falls asleep.

He’s startled awake when he’s lifted up but he falls back asleep immediately after, even if he tries not to.

He wakes up in his own bed. He goes into the ‘fresher, puts on clothes, then walks outside. He heads to the room with the viewports. The closer he gets, the more angry he feels. With each step he takes, rage invades him. When he’s on the threshold, he is seething with hatred. Maul is there, in the center of the room, his back to him. He’s sitting on the ground. Rex approaches then walks in circles around him, watching him from different angles. He has the urge to hurt him, to take his life in the most painful ways he can imagine, to see him suffer and writhe under his hand. Maul opens his eyes and all of a sudden the anger disappears. The hatred, the rage—all gone. Rex stares at his own hands. 

“Meditation,” the Sith rumbles, “allows focus.”

Rex blinks at him for a while. Maul stares back in silence. I felt your anger, Rex says. He averts his gaze and hates himself for it. The Sith gets up, the cybernetics hissing softly. Rex doesn’t stare. He hears him walk away so he turns back. “You must be hungry,” the Sith says, leaving. Rex hesitates. The promise of food is very tempting. In the end, he follows. 

He sits at the same time Maul does, eats the plate the droid brings him in silence and does not ask why he’s the only one eating. The Sith watches him through the whole ordeal. When the droid takes his plate away, Rex has had enough.

What do you want, he snarls. He gets no reply. Why don’t you let me go?

At that, the Sith tilts his head. He looks confused. Rex is taken aback.

“You are not a captive, Commander.”

Rex wants to snap but—he closes his mouth. The door has always been open. He doesn’t understand. Then what am I, he asks, desperate. Why am I here?

“That,” Maul answers, eyes roaming over him, “is for you to decide.” He gets up, more gracefully than he should considering the cybernetics. “I will be gone for a while. Do not destroy the droid.” He leaves Rex to process the words on his own.

Rather than going back to his room, Rex goes to the large room with the viewport. He sits in the middle and stares at the skies outside. He sits there all day, watches the sun go down. He falls asleep. He’s not surprised when he wakes up in his own bed. He goes to the ‘fresher, puts on clothes and goes outside. He wanders around the corridor, goes to the large room then the one where he eats. Maul is nowhere to be found. He goes back to his room and stares at the wall for hours. When the droid comes in, he ignores it. After a while he falls asleep on the covers. 

He wakes up when he hears someone screaming. When he looks around, there’s no one else in the room. He’s filled with fury. He wants to break something. He almost wishes for the droid to come just so he can destroy it. _Do not destroy the droid,_ Maul said. It fuels Rex’s wish even more; he wants to take it apart piece by piece just out of spite.

The droid comes in and Rex’s blood sings. It’s carrying food. His stomach growls.

_I cannot replace them when I am not here,_ Maul said. He remembers the hunger. He doesn’t destroy the droid. He eats a ration bar and gets up. He goes to the room with the viewports. This time, he doesn’t stop at its center; he steps forward and walks to the central viewport. His body lights up with delight. In front of him is a pit. It seems bottomless. An entire Star Destroyer could fit inside. He can see a forest on the horizon. On the sides, a mountain. He was right. They are, technically, underground. On the right, there’s a landing pad. It’s empty. The sight brings anxiety and fear; Rex doesn’t know why. He stares back at the pit. He falls asleep with a face pressed against the transparisteel.

He dreams. He’s on Coruscant this time—hunting a traitor. Something tells him this isn’t right but Rex is fueled by rage and Anakin’s face is set in a dark frown. He doesn’t listen to the voice. They step out of the LAAT/i and roam around. The traitor was last spotted on this level. He goes into some kind of hangar; his footsteps echo eerily around him. Captain, Jesse calls, his voice resounding as much as the flaps of his kama. Fives and Echo walk besides him. We know where she is. Rex nods grimly, tells them to lead the way. The hangar is bigger than expected, with warships parked everywhere. He sees movement out the corner of his eye. The men tense. They hear light footsteps running from one side to another. Steady, men, he grunts. Silence encompasses them. They’re being watched. He can feel the eyes on his back. It makes his skin crawl. Another movement on his right and—there! She’s running away! They start chasing her. She’s fast and light and she jumps from one crate to another, until she lands on a platform, facing them. Blast her! She ignites her lightsabers and deflects all of their attacks. After a particularly sly shot from Fives, her face twists into a snarl and she sends Echo’s shot back to him. The blast goes straight for his shoulder; he goes down with a surprised yell. Rex screams in rage.

He’s so focused on her he never sees Anakin coming in. He runs past them, shouting _Ahsoka!_ and Rex can’t stop him when he jumps towards her. The men stop blasting for fear of injuring him and Ahsoka Tano stares at Anakin silently. _Ahsoka, don’t do this,_ he pleads and, when he takes another step towards her, Rex wants to scream. Anakin raises his arms as if to embrace her and she takes a step backwards, raises her lightsabers. But Anakin doesn’t stop; he keeps approaching and Rex wants to stop him but he’s frozen solid—he can’t move, he can’t talk, he can’t do anything but watch. He knows what’s going to happen but when it does he’s not ready; Tano plunges her lightsabers into Anakin’s body in a quick, efficient move. The Jedi falls. Tano stares at the dead body on the ground, face impassive. Then, Rex can scream. He does; his entire being cries with it.

He wakes up abruptly. At first, he’s lost and anxiety takes control of him; he doesn’t know where he is. He’s breathing heavily and his heart is hammering in his chest. It takes him a couple of agonizing seconds but finally his mind clears; he’s still in the room with the large viewports. He’s not in his bed. He looks outside; the sky is a dark crimson red. He remembers his dream and uncontrollable sobs want to escape from his throat. He closes his mouth, puts his arms around his chest and waits for the spasms to pass. He stares at the pit and lets its sight calm him. When the sun comes out, Rex goes back to his room. He lies on the bed, waiting. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. The droid comes in, multiple times, and, each time, Rex ignores it. 

He feels it when he starts falling asleep. He gets up at once and paces. The sight of his bed is too repulsing; he goes outside and wanders aimlessly in the corridors. He avoids the room with the viewports. When he arrives at the room where he eats from another door, he feels angry. He goes away. He walks, mind blank, and he stumbles onto a room he never saw before. There’s a huge stool made of steel in the middle, standing regally on a large round platform. In front of it there’s a holopod. Rex takes a couple of steps back at the sight of it. His ears start ringing. He leaves the room and decides to never go there again. 

Time passes. Rex stays in his room. He doesn’t always eat when the droid gives him rations. One day, he wakes up and there’s a new set of clothes on his bed. He stares at it for a while. He decides to take a shower then looks at them. They look smaller than his size. He tries them on. They fit perfectly.

He starts doing push-ups. He feels humiliated when he gets winded up so fast. He starts running in the corridors. He passes next to the room with the holopod. He hears voices from within. He keeps running. He goes to the room with the viewports. He’s angry when he sees there are more than mats but he never noticed. He starts using the weights. He doesn’t lift as much as he used to. The revelation sickens him. When he’s done, he goes to the largest viewport and stretches, staring at the pit. He lets his eyes wander. There’s a small gunship on the landing platform.

Rex goes back to his room, takes a shower and, when the droid comes in with high-protein rations, he thanks it.

When he wakes up, he goes for a run. He does sets of push-ups, pull-ups and squats then goes to the room with the viewports and lifts. He stretches in front of the pit and goes back to his room. There he waits. He doesn’t know what for. The droid comes in, Rex eats, then he stares at the wall. Eventually, he falls asleep.

He repeats the process, again and again and again until it becomes a routine.

The nightmares keep plaguing him; more often than not, Tano plays the role of the monster. Anakin is usually the victim—when it’s not him, it’s Rex’s brothers. What never changes is the fact that he’s powerless; he can never do anything to change the dreams.

The new set of clothes becomes too tight. Rex feels fierce pride surging at the revelation. He runs, does his sets, lifts, stretches, eats, stares, sleeps then repeats the process. One day when he goes to the large room he hears grunts and loud slaps followed by huffs. He walks closer to them warily until he can see what’s happening. It’s the sycophant. He’s here, lying on the mats, chest heaving. “Again,” Maul says monotonously. The sycophant stands up, adopts an attack stance Rex doesn’t know and lunges himself at the Sith. It’s a flurry of attacks, parries and jumps. The sycophant’s red streaks seem to be pumping with his rage; Maul, on the other hand, looks calm, his face impassive. It’s a beautiful dance and Rex is entranced. Eventually, the sycophant falls; Maul takes a step back and turns his back to him. “Leave us,” he commands and the sycophant stands up. I look forward to our next spar, Lord Maul, he says with a respectful bow. This time when he passes next to Rex, he watches him intently. Rex stares back with a blank look.

“Are you hungry, Commander?” The Sith asks, facing the viewports. Rex steps forward and stops in the middle of the room. What was this, he asks. “Teräs Käsi,” he answers. “An art form designed to fight Jedi.” He turns back to face Rex, starts walking around him in circles.

Does it work against Sith? Rex asks, chin raised in defiance. Maul laughs privately, head tilted back, exposing his throat. He stares at him with a glint in his yellow eyes, like he knows something Rex doesn’t. It infuriates him.

Teach me, he commands. Maul’s eyes narrow for an instant. Rex stays silent and turns his head to follow his steps. When the Sith is behind him, he looks straight ahead at the red sun illuminating the room. He hears the footsteps approaching. He doesn’t move. When Maul speaks he can feel his breath on his nape. “Let’s begin.”

He throws Rex on the mat in a flawless move. Rex is filled with rage. “Yes, Commander,” he says, taunting him. “Rise.”

What follows is a blur of attacks, rage, parries, hatred and screams. Rex goes down, multiple times, but he keeps standing up. Fuelled by fury, he keeps going, again and again and again, until he can’t stand up anymore. His whole body is shaking; his muscles spam and scream at him to stop. He grits his teeth and tries to push himself up anyway. He falls back down. He seethes in outrage. “Yield,” Maul orders. Rex refuses. He tries to stand up but falls back down again. It happens once, twice, three, four, five times until Maul huffs and turns away from him. “We are done for the day,” he states, then leaves. Rex stays lying on the mats, infuriated.

He wakes up on his bed. He takes a shower, goes for a run, does his sets. He walks to the large room. There’s no one here. He starts lifting, stretches in front of the viewport then walks back to his room, takes a shower, eats what the droid gives him then stares at the wall. After a while, he has the sudden urge to go outside so he does. He walks to the large room. Maul is there. Rex steps in. “Let’s begin,” the Sith says and they do.

It becomes a new pattern. Rex will wake up, go for a run, do his sets. Go to the large room, lift weights, stretch in front of the viewport, go back to his room. Eat what the droid gives him, take a shower, then stare at the wall until he feels the urge to go outside. He’ll walk to the large room and Maul will already be there. “Let’s begin,” he’ll say and they will.

One day, his clothes are too tight. He can’t move efficiently. The shirt constricts him. He takes it off then goes running. He comes back, does his sets, then goes to the large room. He lifts, stretches but then decides to stay a bit, staring at the pit. He pushes off a strand of hair that keeps plastering itself at his forehead. When he does, he’s surprised at how long his hair is. He touches his face gingerly. He didn’t notice how long his beard got either. He goes back to his room. When the droid brings him food, he asks if he can get a mirror and a razor. Something so he can shave. The droid has no vocabulator so it’s not surprising when he doesn’t get any response. He eats, then takes a shower. He stares at the wall. Time stretches. He blinks. He doesn’t feel like going outside. It makes his skin crawl. He starts to fidget. He goes outside anyway. When he arrives in the large room, Rex is alone. He walks to the viewports and stops. Next to the landing pad, there’s an immense vertical ship. It’s similar to the yacht Duchess Kryze owned. It strikes an ugly picture compared to the landscape. Rex hates it with his entire being. 

He storms out, goes straight to his room and stays in it for the rest of the day.

When Rex wakes up, he puts on a pair of pants and goes for a run. He comes back, does his sets, goes to the large room, lifts then decides to go back to his own room to stretch. When he comes in, there’s a mirror on his bed with a box. He opens it; there’s a sonic razor in it. It’s sealed. He takes a shower then sits on the chair, puts the mirror on the table then flinches, startled by his reflection. He looks like a deranged old man. He laughs, uncontrollably, until he coughs and his stomach hurts. He stops abruptly. He can’t remember the last time he laughed.

Rex starts with the beard. It’s a long process. It’s entirely white. It’s really ugly, when he thinks about it; his hair doesn’t fare better, wild blond curls with white patches, but the beard really is awful, untrimmed. He puts a hand on his newly smooth skin. He’s got new lines. He thinks he should care about them. He doesn’t. He goes for the curls. He decides to cut them all but doesn’t cut his hair as close as he used to. It’s long enough that he can feel more than a fuzz at the tips of his fingers but short enough so that it won’t curl.

When he’s done, he’s almost reluctant to look in the mirror. He tries to see if he missed a patch without really looking at his whole face. When he sees it’s good he just puts the mirror down on the table.

Usually that’s when he stares at the wall but now he feels like he’s suffocating in the room. He hastily puts on a shirt and pants then walks outside. He doesn’t go to the large room with the viewports. Rather he wanders aimlessly. When he’s next to the room where he eats, he hears voices. One of them, he recognizes—it’s the sycophant’s. Curious, he walks towards the door and stops at the threshold. Maul is sitting at the head of the table, on Rex’s left. He’s watching the sycophant, who explains some strategy that he seems very proud of, pointing at the holomap in front of them. Next to him, there’s a girl. She has jet black hair curling lovingly around her neck, plush lips and soft eyes. She’s beautiful. The sycophant glances at him with a frown on his face but, when he looks back at Maul, the Sith says nothing so he continues his monologue. Rex crosses his arms over his chest and leans on the doorway. The girl blinks and looks at him. He tilts his head, curious, and she smiles. Her eyes turn into crescent moons. Rex’s heart sets a rapid pace. 

“Enough.” Silence ensues. Maul sighs in frustration; the sycophant subtly tenses while the girl averts her gaze and stares at the table. “I will take care of the Pykes myself,” he states. It must be enough for a dismissal because the other two stand, nod respectfully then leave without another word. The sycophant glares at him when he exits while the girl takes great care not to look at him. Rex feels a chill run down his spine.

“Sit,” the Sith orders and Rex bristles. Maul observes him silently for a long time then rolls his eyes. “As you wish.” He raises two fingers and the droid leaves. They watch each other, neither moving nor speaking. The droid comes back with a plate. Rex’s mouth waters; he sees meat and smells vegetables. “Eat,” the Sith says, gesturing at the plate then at the seat. Rex walks into the room pulls the chair but, rather than sit on it, he leans on the armrest, crosses his legs. He takes a piece of vegetable with his fingers and starts eating. Maul watches him with amusement clear on his face. Rex takes a look at the holomap.

The Pykes have run these mines for centuries, he starts without thinking about it. Some of these planets have been loyal to them for just as long. If you go against them, you will lose the mines.

“Is that so?” Maul asks with a tilt of his head. Rex glances at him, then chooses to focus on his plate. He closes his eyes for an instant when he tries the meat. It’s good. He was raised on rations but he knows how good real food can be.

Your figurehead wants more power, he rumbles. If you get rid of the Pykes, he’ll take advantage of the void left and put himself there. It won’t last. You’ll lose the mines because everyone will know he’s not the one who bested the Pykes.

“And why is that?”

Rex stops eating. There’s something in the air; he doesn’t know what it is but the hairs on his arms stand up. Maul watches intently and the yellow eyes make Rex’s ears ring. He swallows instinctively. Because, he starts saying and he’s incredibly thankful his voice isn’t wavering, he doesn’t have what it takes. Maul’s eyes widen. It almost looks like they flare.

“Do you?” 

The question shocks him, feels like a blow to the face. Rex flinches, lets go of the piece of vegetable in his hand. He stands up abruptly, stares at Maul then leaves. He goes to his room then starts pacing. His body is on high alert; he feels restless. He paces and paces and paces, like a caged nexu. He sits on the floor at once, puts his arms around his legs and tries to breathe. Why did he say that? Why is he helping him? He puts his fingers in his hair and he groans in frustration. He can’t pull the curls anymore. What is he doing? Why is he here?

He falls asleep on the floor. He dreams about Lysatra. He wakes up in the house. It’s still nighttime. He goes outside. The moons burn bright in the sky. He walks to the hole, hoping it will bring him peace. When he looks down, there’s already someone there. They raise their head and Rex realizes he’s looking at himself. He stares down in the hole at his reflection and his reflection stares back.

He wakes up in his bed, the sheets soaked in cold sweat. He takes off his shirt and throws it away. He rolls until he falls on the ground, welcoming the cold. He’s breathing heavily, panting. He stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t go for a run. He doesn’t do his sets. He doesn’t take a shower. When the droid comes in, Rex is filled with rage; he destroys it, takes it apart piece by piece then lies down on the floor and stares at the ceiling. After a while, he feels the urge to go outside. He resists it. The need becomes more insistent, like an itch he can’t scratch. He grits his teeth and stays put. The urge doesn’t go away—rather it becomes unbearable. He stands up, kicks at the droid parts out of spite and proceeds to stomp his way out. When he reaches the room with the viewports he’s in a foul mood; Maul stares at him silently for an instant and Rex wants to punch him. “Let’s begin,” the Sith says.

No, he replies. The Sith scowls. I will never work with you, he spits. Maul stays silent for a moment then he laughs. Rex snarls. You don’t deserve loyalty.

At that, the Sith stops. His eyes narrow; his mouth turns into a scowl. “Loyalty,” he mutters. His hand raises; Rex’s body goes rigid. He can’t move. He can’t move. Maul approaches him at a slow pace, like a hunter going for the kill. Rex can’t move. “Ah, but Anakin Skywalker deserved your loyalty, didn’t he?”

He circles him and Rex’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest. He’s shaking violently, trying to move but he can’t. Maul places himself at his back and Rex feels sick. He can feel his breath on his nape; he wants to scream.

“Surely you must know,” the Sith whispers in his ear, poison seeping from his tongue, “the very man you’ve sworn loyalty to, the one you’ve raised as a paragon of sanctity within the safe confines of your mind, is the one currently hunting down your precious Jedi.” He laughs, delighted by the pain inflicted by his words. He puts his fist down and lets go of his hold on Rex. “Your General has fallen, Commander, and it is simply a matter of time before he drags the lady Tano down with him.”

Rex doesn’t think. He launches himself at Maul. He kicks and snarls and punches and bites. You lie, he shouts, letting his body go through the movements he learned, adding his own training to the dance. He keeps attacking the Sith, relentless, even if he’s always blocked. Maul never kicks back. It enrages him even more. Fight me, Rex demands. He kicks, jumps, strikes but never hits. Fight me.

Eventually, Maul blocks him on the mats. Rex thrashes—to no avail. “Your Jedi is dead,” he tells him and Rex freezes. The fight leaves him. His body is shaking with exhaustion. Maul’s hold on him tightens. “Anakin Skywalker died as all Jedi must. He was nothing more than a mere puppet.” He releases him but Rex doesn’t move. “There is nothing you could have done to change his fate.”

His hands shake uncontrollably. He pants. He lets the words sink in. He turns his head so he can face Maul and that’s when he loses it. The Sith is staring at him but there’s no judgement on his face. There’s—nothing. Rex closes his eyes and starts screaming with his entire being. He can’t stop so he screams, as much as he can, until he hears a whispered _Sleep_ and his mind goes blissfully silent.

He doesn’t dream that night.

He wakes up in his bed. He gets up, puts on clothes and goes for a run. He comes back to his room, does his sets, then goes to lift weights then stretch in front of the viewports. The ugly pleasure ship is gone. He goes back to his room. A new droid comes in, gives him food and leaves. He eats then stares at the wall. When he feels the urge to go outside, he leaves. Maul is already here when he arrives. “Let’s begin,” he says and Rex adopts a defensive position. After that, he follows the instructions, focuses on his form and lets his mind go blissfully blank until Maul says “We are done for the day.” He goes to leave but stops when he hears. “I will be gone for a while. Do not destroy the droid.”

Rex stares at his back for a while. He takes a couple of steps forward and blurts out take me with you. He doesn’t know what propelled him to say this but, once it’s out, he doesn’t take it back. Maul tenses; his back becomes rigid. “No.” The Sith leaves, putting an end to the discussion.

Rex stays unmoving for a long time. The light from outside dims with time. He walks to the largest viewport, sits on the floor and stares at the pit. Time stretches until he falls asleep.

He dreams about the Star Destroyer. This time, Anakin is here. Rex receives the order, starts shooting but misses. The hunt begins. He can feel the Jedi is near. He goes to comm Jesse but is met with silence. Something happened. He curses but the Jedi is the priority. Eventually he finds him. He doesn’t have his lightsaber and, oddly, he doesn’t use his powers. _Don’t do this, Rex,_ he pleads. _Why are you doing this?_ He tells him he’s a traitor. He can’t stand the sight of him. Anakin, a traitor? It seems impossible. It makes him want to throw up and he tells him. To think he saw him like a brother. Rex is disgusted with himself.

In the end, he’s not the one to kill him—Tano does. She emerges from the shadows and buries both of her blades in him; Rex watches the lightsabers come out of Anakin’s chest, crossing in front of him, and his eyes follow the motion when the body falls on the ground. He looks back up to Tano and he flinches. Her face is contorted in an ugly grimace; her eyes are shining like sickly yellow orbs. She points one of her blades at her then at him and says _Monster._

Rex wakes up in his bed. He goes for a run, does his sets, lifts weights, stretches, takes a shower and eats. He doesn’t feel the urge to go outside so he spends the rest of the day staring at the ceiling. He does it again and again and again. He always wakes up where he fell asleep. His bed remains pristine. One day when he goes to stretch in front of the viewport, his heart rattles against his ribs. There’s a gunship on the landing pad. It startles him so much he doesn’t finish stretching and goes straight to his room. After he takes a shower and eats, he is too restless to stay put. He goes outside and wanders around. There’s voices coming from the room with the holopod. Thankfully the door is closed. When he walks next to it he quickens his pace. He goes to the first room he sees without thinking too much. When he steps inside, he freezes.

This room isn’t carved into the rocks—it’s a small cave. On the other side, there’s a small pond. It’s steaming. Rex looks up; there’s a small opening there. He feels the sudden urge to touch the water, so he does. He walks to it, crouches and dips his hand. It’s hot, not too hot, but it’s certainly pleasant. He looks around. The pond isn’t very deep; he can clearly see the bottom. There’s nothing in it. The clear blue water is too appealing. He doesn’t really think too long about it; he takes off his clothes and goes in.

It is, as Rex bet it would be, amazing. The hot water does wonders to his muscles and, little by little, Rex goes deeper, until only his head and shoulders are out. He swims to the other end, finds somewhere to sit and lays back. It’s perfect. He’s never leaving. He’s so relaxed he doesn’t even realize when he falls asleep.

Rex wakes up in his bed. It’s earlier than usual; he doesn’t know how he can tell but he can. He feels weird. His muscles are all relaxed and he isn’t sweating. He feels good, actually. If he was a bit more awake, he would’ve sobbed at how sad it is. He tries to go back to sleep but he can’t. He’s growing restless. He opens his eyes and—ah. That explains a lot. He pushes the covers away, hisses at the cold and thinks about nothing when he takes himself in hand. He bites on his tongue to remain silent, even though no one else is here.

He wakes up, goes for a run, does his sets. Goes to the large room, lifts weights, stretches by the viewports. Comes back to his room, takes a shower and eats. He stares at the wall for a short moment; the urge to go outside is sudden and he puts on his pants and leaves without a second thought.

Maul is already here. He’s staring at the landscape outside. Rex waits. “Let’s begin,” he says and launches himself at him. The move is so surprising Rex becomes airborne for an instant but muscle memory grants him the grace to land on his feet. He grins and he’s sure he looks feral but he doesn’t care. He throws himself at Maul and they fight mercilessly. Rex snarls and strikes and shouts in violent delight. It ends too soon; they’re both on the ground, painting, when Maul abruptly gets back up and says “We’re done for the day.” He leaves without even a second glance. Rex is confused. 

He goes back to his room in a strange mood. He takes a shower and eats one of the rations left on the table. He starts pacing. He’s getting antsy, restless. He hates it. He is starting to snarl on his own when he’s got an idea. Oh, well. He touches the door, looks at it when it opens. He feels strange taking a step outside—like it’s forbidden. He does with silent delight. He walks slowly, tries not to get too excited. It’s stupid, really; there’s no one else nearby and Maul probably doesn’t care. Still. Rex tries to tone it down.

He walks by the room with the holopod. The door is open. He tries not to quicken his pace. He’s awfully relieved when he sees it’s empty. He reaches the door leading to the cave, puts his hand on it and grins when it opens. He doesn’t waste his time; he takes off his clothes and lets them fall on the ground without care. He stares at the water then dives.

Submerged, he yells in delight, feels the bubbles leaving his mouth. He swims deeper, loves how the water flows on his skin and goes back up. He takes a deep breath and laughs. He stares at the patch of sky above him then goes back under. He swims for a long time, until his legs start protesting; then he goes to the small corner where he can sit and lays down on the rocks. He falls asleep.

He wakes up in his bed. He stretches languidly. He puts on clothes then goes for a run. He comes back, does his sets, goes to the large room, lifts weights, stretches in front of the viewport, comes back to his room, takes a shower, eats then he lounges lazily on his bed. The urge to go outside becomes insistent so he goes. Maul is already there. “Let’s begin,” he says and this time Rex is ready. They spar for a long time and, when it comes to an end, Rex feels giddy. He hasn’t needed to change tactics to avoid doing a form he isn’t comfortable with. He grins. When he sits back up, Maul is staring at him intently. “We’re done for the day,” he says, voice low, but he doesn’t move. Okay, Rex says and Maul stands abruptly. He stares at him for a long moment then leaves. Rex looks at his retreating figure and blinks.

When he goes back to his room, he feels weird. He takes a shower. He paces. After a while, he shrugs and decides to go to the cave. There, he swims for a while then lays back in the corner he likes. He falls asleep.

He wakes up in his bed. He does the same thing. Every night, he falls asleep in the cave and every morning he wakes up in his bed. He stops dreaming.

One day, after training’s over, Maul says “I will be gone for a while.” Rex feels a spike of panic going through him and he freezes at the realization. Strangely, so does Maul. They stare at each other in silence. Rex opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times. He must look ridiculous. How long? he settles on asking. Maul stays silent for so long he thinks he’s never going to answer. “No more than ten days.” He stands up briskly and glares. “Do not drown,” he orders then leaves.

The rest of the day is a blur. All Rex remembers is that he falls asleep in his bed.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t move. He lays in his bed all day. The droid comes and goes and Rex keeps ignoring it. He falls asleep.

He dreams about the Star Destroyer. Anakin isn’t here. Tano isn’t here either. When Rex receives the order, he transmits it to his men. Do not approach, he orders. Leave him to me. He walks briskly through the ship, takes the lift with his hands on his blasters. When he comes in, he is greeted by two yellow eyes staring right back at him. Leave us, he orders the men, who do instantly. He takes off his helmet, discards it on the floor. He opens the vault. Monster, he spits. Maul’s eyes show his amusement. Rex holsters his blasters and takes off the restraints. He stops him from falling on the ground. “Yes?” Maul asks when he can stand on his own. Take me with you, Rex commands. The Sith stares at him for a long time, silent. “Is this what you want?”

Rex wakes up and runs to the ‘fresher to throw up. He falls back asleep there after painful hours retching and dry heaving. In the morning when he wakes up he goes for a run. He goes through his whole routine. In the cave, he swims for a while but, instead of laying in the water, he comes out and waits a bit to dry. He puts on his pants and walks to the room with the viewports. He sits in front of the largest one and watches the sun go down. He falls asleep there. He wakes up there. He goes for a run, back to his room, does his sets, lifts weights, stretches, eats, showers, swims then watches the sun go down. He falls asleep and wakes up there. He repeats the process.

“What do you want?” Maul asks him this time when he goes to free him from the Mandalorian vault. “What do you need?” Rex stares at him, lets him circle him like he would a prey. Take me with you, he commands.

When he wakes up, he wants to run to the ‘fresher but notices that he doesn’t want to throw up. He stares at the pit outside until he falls back asleep.

One day when he stretches in front of the viewport, he sees the gunship landing. His heart hammers in his chest. He watches Maul come out. When the Sith steps on the platform, his head moves and his eyes settle on him. Rex freezes and stares back. He narrows his eyes when he sees someone else coming out of the ship. He stiffens. He doesn’t know who that is. He storms out to his room, takes a shower and refuses to eat. He goes straight to the cave and stays there all day. He falls asleep. 

He dreams about the bounty hunter. This time, when he falls down on his knees, Rex puts his hand around his throat and squeezes. The bounty hunter looks at him with fear in his eyes. Rex tightens his grip. The walls whisper in different voices. _Don’t do this,_ Anakin murmurs but he is soon drowned out by the soft purrs of his brothers. Yes, they breathe, take control. The bounty hunter tries to push his hand away unsuccessfully. The walls shiver with delight. 

He wakes up in his bed. He looks down at himself and feels sick to his stomach. He goes into the ‘fresher, sits down and lets the cold water take away his guilt. 

“Let’s begin,” Maul says and Rex adopts a defensive stance. He waits. The Sith’s eyes narrow. He starts circling him. Rex doesn’t move. He can tell the moment Maul decides to attack. He deflects and takes a step back. He parries another hit. He goes back to the first form. It goes on for a long time. Maul gets rid of his cloak, throws away his tabard, grows frustrated. Rex never attacks. Finally Maul lunges with all his might; the push with his cybernetics gives him the advantage. Rex deflects his arm but takes a hit to his thigh. He snarls but gets back up immediately. Maul grins, making Rex falter—he takes the next punch to his chest and is flung to the other side of the room. Suddenly, he’s airborne; he never hits the ground. He panics and starts thrashing until he catches sight of Maul, fist raised and scowling. He drops him without warning. “Careless,” he spits. “An easy kill for a Jedi.”

Why would a Jedi kill me, he scoffs. Maul scowls and advances on him. Rex stays on the mats and looks at him with a condescending sneer. Maul raises his hand and with it Rex who snarls at him. “You are the enemy, now, Commander. Remember it,” he growls, lets go of him and attacks. Rex lunges at him, infuriated, and launches a series of deadly strikes with all of his strength. Maul deflects all of them; he shouts in rage and stops thinking, lets anger take control and relies on muscle memory. He sees an opening—he kicks him right where flesh connects with steel. Maul grunts; Rex takes the opportunity and pushes him down on the mats with his own body. He’s got him pinned. Yield, he sneers with a vicious smile, high on adrenaline. But Maul stays silent. It infuriates him. He gets up but puts his foot on his chest to keep him down. Yield, he orders. The Sith puts his hands on his ankle and Rex freezes. Stupid, reckless—if he stands up, he’ll be done. He expects him to twist it, to throw him away in a swift move but all Maul does is saying “I yield.”

Rex steps back like he’s been burnt. He stares at the Sith who stares back but doesn’t move. He panics and leaves hastily to retreat to his own room. He doesn’t go back outside for the day.

He dreams about the Destroyer. He frees Maul, supports him so that he doesn’t fall. When they go for the exit, Maul lets go of him. Take me with you, Rex commands. The Sith turns back, stares at him for a long moment then asks, “Is this what you want?” And Rex—

Rex stops, for an instant, and thinks about it. No, he declares eventually. He steps forward, opens the door and walks away. When he sees that Maul isn’t following, he growls let’s go. When this doesn’t prompt any reaction, he turns back, takes off his helmet and scowls. We don’t have all day, he sneers. So let’s move. 

He wakes up in his bed and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

He goes for a run, comes back, does his sets, goes to the large room, lifts weights, then starts stretching. He stares at the forest on the horizon. He goes back to his room, takes a shower then eats. After that, he goes to the cave. He strips then goes into the water slowly, taking his time. He lounges there, finds some corner where he can lie down on his stomach next to the pond, twirling one finger on the surface. The urge to leave rises within him but he ignores it. When it becomes insistent, he dives into the water and swims. He goes back outside, lays on his stomach and the urge starts making his skin crawl. No, he snaps and stays where he is. His voice echoes in the small cave. After a while, the urge subsides. He stretches lazily and stays here all day then falls asleep.

He dreams about Lysatra. He’s eating outside—fresh bantha meat with milk. Sitting on the roof of his house, he looks at the seemingly never-ending fields. Maul joins him, sits down silently besides him. “Is this what you need?” he asks. Rex finishes his plate then looks around him. He can almost see the farmers’ house from here. The hole is missing. He turns his head to look at Maul, lets his eyes wander over his form. No, he says, unsure until the word leaves his mouth.

He wakes up in his bed. He touches his lips and feels the word form in his mouth. No, he repeats, in a hushed whisper. No. He falls back asleep. This time he doesn’t dream. 

Today, after he’s done eating, he goes outside. He wanders aimlessly until he decides he wants to see the world outside. He goes to the largest viewport and sits there, watching the forest around the pit. After a couple of hours, he hears the resounding footsteps of Maul’s cybernetics. He turns around but remains on the ground. Rex smiles.

Maul’s eyes widen and, for an instant, he looks off-balanced. He scowls. He takes off his cloak, throws it on the ground with vehemence then adopts an aggressive stance, taunting Rex. “Let’s begin,” he says.

Rex looks at him but doesn’t get up. No, he replies. Then he waits. “Commander,” Maul growls. Rex puts his back on the transparisteel and stretches his legs. He says nothing. The Sith waits. After a long moment spent in silence, he huffs and stands back, vexed. When he goes to retrieve his cloak, Rex grins. He jumps and goes for his neck. Maul turns back and catches his wrist assuredly. Rex tries to kick him but the Sith catches his ankle then bares his teeth in a savage grin.

Rex’s blood sings.

They go at each other’s throats for a long time; it’s clear Maul lets visible openings in his stance for Rex to attack but it doesn’t mean he won’t try to take advantage of them. In a dirty move, he goes for Maul’s horns; the Sith loses his balance so Rex swipes his ankles and kicks at his waist. The other goes down but he catches Rex’s hips between his legs and suddenly the air is sucked out of him by Maul pulling him down on the mats with all his might. “Yield,” he says with a victorious grin, leaning over him and Rex’s breath catches in his throat. In an entirely instinctual move, his hand raises and, with his thumb, he brushes Maul’s cheek. The Sith freezes. I yield, Rex whispers and the words seem like a blow; Maul flinches back and stands up in less than a second. He stares at Rex like he’s something incomprehensible then leaves without a second glance.

Rex sits back, looks at his hand for a while. He stands up, leaves his shirt on the floor and goes to the cave. He gets out of his pants and dives into the water. He swims and lounges around. He falls asleep laying on the ground, with one hand moving with the lull of the pond.

He wakes up in his room. He puts on pants and goes for a run. He comes back, does his sets then goes outside. When he enters the large room, he freezes. In front of the largest viewport stands someone. It’s the girl. She turns back and her eyes widen when she sees him. I’m sorry, she says hurriedly then stares at the ground. She looks like she wants to flee. I can come back later, Rex says. His voice sounds rough. He clears his throat. He takes a step forward, testing the waters. She doesn’t flinch. He goes on the side, so that he doesn’t block her way to the exit. I’m sorry if I startled you, he tells her. At that, she raises her head and stares at him. Her whole demeanor changes. She takes a couple of steps towards him and looks at his face like he is something to dissect. He stops himself from stiffening. You don’t know, do you? she asks.

He frowns. What do you mean? Her eyes widen. Oh, she murmurs. He didn’t tell you, then.

Rex feels frustration claw at him. He averts his gaze and asks tell me what?

Many people come in here yet no one ever bothers you. You never wonder why?

Rex frowns. Many people? He’s only seen three apart from Maul—and she’s one of them. She must see his confusion because she grins. You truly are sheltered, she whispers.

Qi’ra, someone snaps, startling them both. It’s the sycophant. The girl stiffens for a second but then she blinks and her shoulders relax. She looks at the other man, offers him warm eyes and a soft smile. She looks exactly like she did the first time Rex saw her. She glances quickly at him, gives him a polite nod then walks to the sycophant. Excuse her, he says in a tight voice. She doesn’t know any better sometimes.

Rex stares at their retreating figures and doesn’t move for a long time. When he starts lifting, he makes a point to forget the whole exchange. When he stretches, he purposely doesn’t look towards the ugly yacht parked next to the landing pad. Since he doesn’t expect that there will be training today, he goes straight to the cave, takes off his pants and dives into the water. He stays there for a while, even takes a nap but then the urges to go outside grows within him. He takes one last dive into the water, then puts on his pants and leaves.

When he arrives at the large room, Maul is already here. Rex throws a quick glance at the viewports; the yacht is gone. Oddly, the sight brings him a sense of satisfaction. I don’t want to train today, he says before Maul can speak. The other tilts his head. “Is that so?” Rex nods. “Then what do you want?”

Answers, he replies. Maul puts his hands behind his back. It occurs to Rex that it is probably his way of giving him the floor.

Why am I here? he asks. Maul seems annoyed and looks at the viewports. 

“That is for you to decide.”

Rex frowns. He’s not asking the right question. He starts pacing. Why do you let me live here?

At that, the Sith stays silent. Rex scowls. “I have my reasons,” he eventually says, voice tight.

No, you don’t, he snaps. I have no reason to be here. I don’t work. I don’t help. I don’t even do my own laundry, he scoffs. He takes a couple of steps, closes the distance between them. Why am I here, Maul, he asks, voice low.

“We are done for the day,” he replies. Rex catches his wrist before he can leave. Answer me, he commands.

The Sith gets out of his grip in a violent move and bares his teeth. He turns back and walks briskly. I’m hungry, Rex announces. And it works. Maul stops walking. After long seconds spent in silence, he finally says, “Very well.” He changes his path and heads to the right direction. Rex follows him.

Maul sits at the head of the table, then makes a gesture to the droid. Rex observes him for a moment. Instead of going for one of the chairs, he decides to lean against the table, at the corner on Maul’s right. The droid comes back with a single plate. It seems to hesitate. Eventually, it puts the plate in front of Maul. Rex picks at the food with his fingers. He takes a piece of meat and brings it to his mouth. The Sith watches him without saying anything. Rex eats in silence, ignoring him. When he’s done, he shifts his leg so that it brushes against one of Maul’s armrests. He crosses his arms over his chest. The Sith remains silent.

Why am I here? he asks. He receives no response. He tries again. You could kick me out. But you don’t, he comments, leaning forward. Why’s that? He tilts his head. What aren’t you telling me?

“You are not a captive, Commander,” he says, voice cold. “If you wish to leave, you may.”

Rex shakes his head with a small smile. You’re dodging the questions, he says. In a daring move, he puts his hand on the opposite armrest, blocking him where he sits. Maul, he whispers. Why am I here?

“I will not repeat myself, Command—”

Captain, he corrects, cutting him off. Maul’s eyes widen and he closes his mouth. Rex grins. I was demoted, he tells him with an amused huff.

“Captain,” Maul says under his breath, seemingly unaware. Rex nods. He shifts. When there’s no reaction, he tries something. He puts his legs on each side of his chair so that the Sith won’t be able to stand without pushing him away.

“Maul,” Rex says and yellow eyes settle on his face, mapping it as much as possible. He raises his hand and puts his fingers under the Sith’s chin, in the same way Maul did when Rex woke up here for the first time. “Why are we here?” 

“I am no longer a Sith,” he declares, “and you are no longer a Captain. The galaxy does not need us anymore. Our lives have become meaningless.” He dips his chin but doesn’t swat Rex’s hand away. “We may do as we please. We may give up and rot away—or we can decide to take control of our lives. The choice is ours.” 

“Take control,” Rex repeats. Maul stares at him and nods silently. He grins slowly and Rex’s breath catches in his throat.

“Yes. Take control, choose the life you want.” He straightens up and the fingers on his chin drop to his chest. “Take what you need, Captain,” Maul whispers, yellow eyes flaring. Rex plunges and bites his lower lip viciously. Maul’s reaction is exquisite; he growls and puts his hands on his hips to support him but doesn’t move otherwise.

Rex pulls back and admires his work. His tongue darts out and he tastes Maul’s blood on his own skin. He puts his thumb on the other’s split lip; he grins when the yellow eyes widen. “I don’t need you,” Rex states and presses on the cut. Maul hisses. He kisses him and the responding groan tastes even better than freedom. His nose trails down Maul’s cheek until his lips brush his ear. He presses his hand onto Maul’s chest, then trails higher, higher, until it settles on his throat. He lets out a sigh of satisfaction and squeezes. He offers him an appreciative moan when the other shivers. Rex grins and whispers in his ear, “but I’ll take you anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not perfectly happy with it but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
